Then she felt him pushing even more of the knife into her. Her hands flew to her blouse, nervously fumbling with the buttons. He had to stop kneeling on her stomach so she could reach the last of the buttons but there were still three inches of sharp steel in her womb so she was not about to risk trying to run.He rolled her onto her stomach, tore the sleeve from her discarded blouse and used them to bind her arms behind her back at the wrists and elbows. He kept tightening the bindings until her shoulders cracked and elbows were nearly touching.?Please?let me go! what do you want from me?...gaahhkk!? she implored as he looped rough rope around her throat and used it to yank her to her knees.He walked across the dirty room so quickly Emma was never fully able to regain her feet, several times stumbling and collapsing onto bruised and cut knees to shuffle and gag behind him.Apparently finding what he wanted he stopped suddenly and through the bundled end of the rope up and over a thick. Grace stood stock-still on the sidewalk, the bouquet of hyacinths at herside, her free hand covering her mouth. She wanted anger, moralindignation, defiance, and, most of all, courage. These emotions wouldall be useful, even necessary, in the days ahead, but what Grace reallywanted right then was for this not to have happened at all."Oh no," she whispered, when she took her hand away to reach for the cellphone she almost never used, buried at the bottom of her handbag. "Oh no,no, no..."It was significant that the first and only person she even consideredcalling was Walt. Not the police, who would have to be called eventually.Her fingers were already punching his number and his customarily gruff"good morning" already in her ear before she'd been quite aware of whatshe'd done, who she called, or what she'd planned to say."Grace. What's the matter. Is something wrong?" Walt, you've got to come down to the Blue Cat as quickly as you can." Grace, what's wrong?" Please Walt. I can't.
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